Page 132 of Your Soul to Keep

I could use a little help.

We packed everything I wanted into boxes and hauled the rest away to the resale center. The craft room was a nightmare, but it’s amazing what I accomplished with a little motivation.

And I was motivated.

Three days without his voice, his touch, his arms around me.

Three days without her little face.

Three days knowing he was scared and hurting and I couldn’t do anything about it.

I met with the real estate agent, got a quote from the mover, and canceled the TV subscriptions.

I separated my most precious items along with my clothes and personal items from the rest. Somehow, I crammed everything, including Nan’s vanity, into the back of my car.

I checked out the storage facility and arranged space for my furniture and anything else that might not fit into Gabe’s, or God forbid, that might have to wait until I got my own place.

I pushed that thought away, confined the ‘what if’ to a tiny box in the back of my brain stacked next to the one I mentally labeled, ‘I’ll be okay.’

I had one last errand before I could leave.

I knocked on Mrs. Mason’s door. She answered with a smile that slowly faded as she took in my face.

Dipping her chin, she peered up at me from beneath her brow. “Tell me you’re going to that tall drink of water, and I’ll forgive you for leaving.”

I chuckled. “I am.”

Pulling me into a hug, she murmured, “Happy for you, Shae. I wish you every blessing.”

I sniffed. “Thank you, Mrs. Mason.”

She pulled back and jerked her chin toward Mrs. Wemberly’s door. “Don’t forget to say bye to the old bat. She talks a good game, but she cares.”

I laughed. “Oh, I know she does!”

Stooping down, I gathered the roses, Nan’s favorite, and passed them to her friend.

“Ach, love,” she whispered. “Your Nan would love these.”

“You love them for her, okay?” I asked, tears straining my voice.

With one last hug, she closed her door, and I moved to Mrs. Wemberly’s door.

My knuckles barely brushed the surface before she opened it.

Her appraising eyes ran over my form, then looked over my shoulder to my packed car on the street, before returning sharply to mine. “Well?”

I swallowed. “I’m not going to have regrets.”

Her face softened. “That’s my girl.”

She stepped back as if to close her door.

“Wait!” I cried out, stooping down to the giftbag at my feet and handed it to her. “Think of me now and then,” I choked out. “And know I’ll never forget you.”

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